


the same star

by ObscureReference



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Car Accidents, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ransom and Holster take that trip to Myrtle Beach.</p><p>They don't make it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the same star

**Author's Note:**

> Since I wrote over 20,000 words in another fic the other day and went through every character's point of view besides Ransom, the working title for this fic was "i'm making it up to you, ransom." 
> 
> Giving fics a real name is so hard. Title from "“I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe we’re from the same star.” -- Emery Allen. It doesn't really mean anything for this fic in particular. But it's a nice quote that could apply to R&H.
> 
> Also, thank you to that tumblr user who helped me find those tweets about them arguing about Myrtle Beach. I'm also sorry because you said you thought it was Ransom who wanted to go and Holster who didn't, but when you told me that I had already written all the parts that were the other way around. Thank you so much for your help! Sorry I already had it the other way around.

 

 It took approximately a month and a half before Ransom gave in to Holster's reasoning. They were going to drive to Myrtle Beach.

The roads were relatively flat at the start of their trip, only a few hills here and there, and Ransom felt less and less regret by the minute. Even with top 40's pop music blasting from the car speakers and Holster's voice matching every song pitch for pitch for the past three hours, Ransom was starting to think a fifteen hour drive meant nothing if he could have this every day. The air was just on the ride side of cool as he rolled the window down. Really, he didn't know why he'd been so worried about the distance.

Then they drove over the crest of the hill and immediately came face to face with another car at a complete standstill in their lane.

"Jesus fuck!" Holster swore, slamming on the breaks with such speed and control over the wheel that Ransom was impressed they didn't skid directly in to the other lane and kill them both. As it happened, the tires merely made the kind of unholy screech most people only heard in action movies before coming to rest less than a foot away from the bumper of the car in front of them.

Holster whistled lowly. It came out more breath than sound. His knuckles were tight on the steering wheel. "I cannot believe we didn't destroy both the car and our mortal bodies just now. Who the hell lets traffic get this bad and doesn't put up a sign?" He eyed carefully Ransom. "You alright there?"

Ransom couldn't unclench his fingers from the bottom of his seat. He nodded anyway. On the radio, Selena Gomez bemoaned that she was _so sick of that same old love, that shit, it tears me up. I'm so sick of that same old love!_

Holster used the steering wheel to leverage himself a little higher in his seat and craned his neck to look out the windshield, as though by raising another half an inch he could somehow make out what Ransom couldn't. It was obvious the traffic went on for miles. They'd be stuck in the car for a long, long time before they actually went anywhere.

"See," Ransom said, trying to gain control of his own voice. "This is what happens when I agree to go to Myrtle Beach with you. I could still be in Toronto right now, living a very wonderful, car crash free life." A life that was becoming less and less likely by the second.

Holster snorted and rolled his eyes, sliding back down in his seat.

"First of all, we didn't crash, so don't be dramatic," he said. "My driving skills are second to none. Second of all, the GPS didn't tell me there was all this traffic here. How was I supposed to know it's backed up? Nobody even put up a sign! Who lets traffic back up to a hill nobody can see over and then doesn't put up a sign?"

"We should just turn back," Ransom said. "Maybe _that's_ a sign."

"Are you serious?" Holster asked, making a face. "Literally the whole reason you're here right now is so we can go to Myrtle Beach. We've planned this for like two weeks."

"Well, it's a dumb reason. And it's a dumb beach."

Holster gasped, only half pretending to be affronted. Ransom wanted to take it back. Myrtle Beach wasn't dumb. It was the distance that was dumb.

"Do you know how many sick parties we are going to miss out on if we turn around?"

"Are those parties sick enough to waste waiting in the world's biggest traffic jam for the next ten hours?" Not to mention the traffic was on top of the fifteen hour minimum drive it would take just to get to South Carolina in the first place.  

" _Yes_ ," Holster stressed. "We've barely left the Canadian border! You've already given up!"

It wasn't like Ransom hadn't gone on long road trips with Holster before. They'd met every summer in Niagara Falls since they met and they had driven back to Samwell together over the winter break this past year. And it wasn't that Ransom doubted the parties wouldn't be as sick as Holster promised; Ransom was _absolutely_ sure they were as legendary as they'd heard.  

He did have to admit that the offer of legendary beach parties and the seduction of sea water warm enough to actually swim in was a very enticing offer, especially when tied with the unspoken promise that Ransom would see Holster in equally enticing swimwear. It was just a really long ass drive and the immediate traffic reminded Ransom that there would be other parties and other times they could swim in the ocean or drunkenly make-out in the sand while other people did keg stands on the beach behind them. Fifteen hours was nearly double the time it took to get to Samwell. Ransom wasn't sure the beach was worth the cost.

"Can't we just go somewhere else until the traffic lightens up?" Ransom asked. "Or find an alternate route or something?"

Holster tapped the GPS. "I'm trying, bro. This thing is honestly the worst."

Ransom sighed and crossed his arms. He was a little annoyed, but it was also his fault for agreeing to the trip in the first place. They could have been at Holster's house right now, sleeping in late and creaming each other in Mario Kart. That was a much closer trip than _Myrtle Beach_.

Holster's IPhone shuffled over to another song and Selena Gomez melted in to Ariana Grande's _Problem_.The traffic in the distance refused to budge.

"Hey," Ransom said, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "If we couldn't see the traffic over the hill, are we visible to—"

He got his answer as another car suddenly slammed in to the trunk of Holster's Nissan, sending both hockey players flying forward in their seats. The seatbelt tightened across Ransom's chest so much like a python that he for a brief moment he forgot where he was. It knocked the wind right out of his lungs and kept it away until he fell back against his seat and managed to suck in  a sharp breath, head spinning.

Ransom registered the collision of Holster's car with the one in front of them simultaneously to his shooting forward, a combination of the particular crunch of bending metal and violent movement that came with all automobile accidents, their own car springing away from the predator that had bitten it and then bouncing to a halt in the same breath.

They were officially sandwiched between two other cars. Ransom understood the phrase "felt like he had been hit by a truck" better than he ever had before.

There was a brief silence where everything seemed to be at a standstill. For a moment, Ransom thought he might have been dead. Then he registered the ache in his shoulders and he opened his eyes.

He caught sight of the front of the car first. The windshield was nothing more than a spider web of cracked glass held together by sheer force of will, but through the not-completely shattered parts Ransom could see the entire front of their car had become a piece of modern art with the trunk of the car in front of it. He didn't even want to turn around. Holster's car was absolutely totaled.

Holster. Shit.

Ransom ignored the copper in his mouth and turned. He had merely bitten the inside of his cheek. He felt perfectly fine, all things considered. He hoped Holster had fared about the same.

But when Ransom looked at the driver's seat, Holster had very obviously not fared the same.  

He wasn't bleeding. Not obviously, anyway. But Holster's forehead was pressed against the steering wheel like he his head had smacked against it and never bounced back. His whole body was limp as well, pale and unmoving and Ransom couldn't even tell if his chest was rising or not. Holster's eyes were shut.

"Holster," Ransom called, the few inches between their seats a seemingly impossible distance. "Wake up."

He didn't move. God, Ransom wanted to shake him, wanted to run his hands all over him until Holster opened his eyes and screamed at the car behind them to watch where they were fucking going, assholes. But Ransom didn't. Couldn't.

"Adam?" He tried again. His voice shook.

The body next to him sat just as motionless as before and Ransom felt a very particular chill slither through his veins. Just a few hours ago he and Holster had been making out in the backseat at a gas station, candy bars scattered on the car floor and soda growing warm in the cup holders, Holster hot and alive under Ransom's fingertips, and now he maybe wasn't anymore.

Ransom tried to suck in another breath and found that he couldn't. He also couldn't tear his eyes away from the driver's seat, couldn't look away from the exact angle Holster's hair fell across his face or how his fingers were slack against the steering wheel but hadn't yet fallen into his lap. Ransom couldn't do anything. Couldn't imagine. Couldn't.

Holster groaned. Ransom's heart came back to life along with him.

\----------

It goes like this:

Somehow, they make it to the hospital. Ransom isn't sure how. He assumes ambulances picked them up, but honestly the whole ride is a blur of Holster, Holster, Holster until he realizes he's halfway through filling out medical paperwork. Since Holster was the one who actually seemingly got knocked out for a few seconds, the doctors see him after a few people who are actively bleeding and before Ransom.

It takes the doctors two hours to check them out to and Ransom and Holster are in separate rooms the whole time. It's the longest two hours of Ransom's whole life.

It goes like this:

Somehow, miraculously, the doctor declares them both safe for discharge. Despite the way the car crash whipped both their heads around and despite the stiffness in their necks that will probably have to be rubbed away by a chiropractor at some point, Dr. Whatshisname says neither of them have a concussion and that they're free to go so long as they report any nausea, confusion or blurry vision as soon as possible. Ransom thinks he must be the shittiest physician in the whole world. He nearly demands for them to check again, but the scans showed up clean and Holster keeps saying _I'm fine, I'm fine_ over and over until Ransom gives up and calls a taxi instead.

It goes like this:

Somehow, they both find a hotel room that won't charge them an arm and a leg for booking a room at such short notice, and they check themselves in. Ransom stays quiet the elevator ride up to the room on the second floor; Holster whines about how close their room is to the elevator and any bratty children that might be staying the night better not play any games while he's trying to sleep tonight. Ransom almost cracks a smile. Holster watches.

The moment after Holster locks the door behind him, Ransom drops their bags and pushes Holster on to the bed.

\----------

They weren't strangers to sex; not the idea itself and certainly not with each other. It wasn't even the first time they'd had sex outside of the Haus or one of their homes. Traveling hockey games had given them plenty of opportunity for that.

Outside of consent and how either of them had the right to decline doing the do at any time, for any reason, they didn't particularly talk about the specifics of their sex life. They usually switched it up without speaking about it just because. Whoever instigated it was often the one who set the pace as well, unless the other one was feeling a particular way that night. And they had gotten plenty rough with each other before.

But since it had been Ransom who pushed Holster down and not the other way around, Holster didn't protest when Ransom began slowly unbuttoning his pants or pressing Holster's hip to the mattress with unexpected tenderness.

Holster was hard before Ransom even got his boxers off.

"Come on," he said, and Ransom hopped off the bed to grab the lube and condoms from the bag, throwing his shirt on the floor before crawling back on top of Holster.

He worked Holster open with practiced ease, a motion he had done time and time before and that Holster had done for him. Ransom teased without pushing, watching the way Holster rocked his hips up beneath him, and before either of them knew it, he was sliding on a condom and popping open the lube.

It wouldn't do to go too quickly at this point and send both of them right back to the hospital from overexertion, so Ransom took his time. He entered Holster with a low groan, slowly pushing in inch by agonizing inch until finally he couldn't anymore and they were completely wrapped around each other.

"Fuck," he muttered into the juncture where Holster's neck and shoulder met. He nosed along the skin there, turning upwards and dragging his lips across the underside of Holster's jaw. Holster clenched a little around him and a jolt traveled throughout Ransom's body. He shuddered. "Fuck."

He paused for a moment, letting Holster's body adjust. It wasn't like they hadn't done this every opportunity they got. But having a dick up your ass was always a different sensation and the last thing Ransom wanted to do today was cause any more pain. Plus, he was pretty sure he'd come within the next minute if he moved any time soon. So he waited, pushing Holster's hair out of his face and placing kisses across his forehead in the meantime. His thumb ran circles on Holster's side.

Somehow, some way, Ransom managed to pull out as slowly, if not slower, than he had pushed in. Holster lifted his hips slightly to accommodate him and Ransom couldn't help but stare. He wanted to savor every moment of this, the precise rhythm of the rise and fall of Holster's chest, the way the sweat ran across the back of his neck, the way Holster's dick jumped in his hand when Ransom took it. Every little sensation sent another shock of pleasure right to Ransom's cock.

When he pushed in again, Ransom ran a free hand across Holster's ribcage, outlining the solid muscle with his fingertips. He trailed his fingers across Holster's nipple and over his chest. Holster's heartbeat fluttered just underneath his skin, as if trying to escape Holster's chest through sheer force of will.

He wanted to memorize this, to etch the feel of Holster's skin into the tips of his fingertips. He wanted to hear the sound of their heavy, panting breaths together over and over in his ears long after they were finished tonight. He wanted this, the way Holster arched his back so subtly, the way his mouth fell open and his eyes rolled shut as Ransom pushed in to him, glued behind his eyelids for the rest of his life.

The thoughts swirling through Ransom's brain were enough that he actually had to pause for a moment to collect himself once again.

"Hey," Holster said, only a slight catch in his voice. "You're thinking too hard."

Ransom took him in. The way the shadows played off his hair. The way his tongue ran over his bottom lip. The way he grinned, full of teeth.

"I love you," Ransom said. He had told Holster so a million times before, but it felt like a confession falling from his lips. "So much."

Holster took a moment before replying. Ransom didn't rush it, letting Holster work out what he thought was going on in Ransom's skull before opening his mouth. He didn't mind being stared at. It just gave him the opportunity to stare right back. 

"Me too," Holster finally replied, pulling Ransom down in to a kiss as he did. 

Their lips connected softly, moving against each other without any real urgency. Ransom rocked their hips together as they kissed, swallowing every noise that dared to leave Holster's mouth with his own. He was deliberate in his motions, only pulling back an inch or so before thrusting back in. Holster didn't seem to mind. He lifted his hips to meet Ransom's halfway, but he didn't pull away and ask for more like he might have on another night.

It was a slow kind of sex, the kind that started at a certain pace and stayed that way, never particularly speeding up or stopping completely. Ransom's thrusts were smooth and even and in return, so was Holster. Even as he felt the buildup getting closer, low in his belly, even as Holster arched a little more in to his hand, breathing heavier, Ransom didn't speed up.

Holster came first, because he was secretly a romantic who liked sappy things like this. The sheer sounds he made sent Ransom over the edge as well, made him gasp and moan in to Holster's skin while he came.

A beat passed before Ransom slid out and pulled the condom off, tying the end of it and throwing in the garbage bin across the room. He made it in one toss. Ransom internally congratulated himself on the nice shot before he looked back at the body underneath him.

"Hey," Holster whispered, cupping Ransom's cheek. His breaths were still a little quicker than they should have been. "You should totally grab me a towel before this jizz dries."

Ransom didn't bother stifling his laugh as he rolled across the bed and to his feet. "You always know how to savor the moment."

"I try."

He grabbed one of the hand towels from the bathroom and nailed Holster in the face with it. He didn't bother putting on his boxers before crawling back in bed. After Holster cleaned himself up and threw the towel off to the side, he rolled over and spooned Ransom from behind, burying his face in the back of Ransom's neck.

"So what was that about?" Holster asked softly after lying together in semi-darkness for a few minutes. They'd never bothered to turn on the light and the sunset cast varying shades of gold through the window.

Ransom didn't open his eyes. Didn't turn around.

"You know," Holster said. His breath tickled the back of Ransom's neck. "Being extra sweet and stuff."

"Adam, we have had slow sex before."

"Yeah, but this was different."

"You do realize we were in a car accident earlier today, right?" Ransom said, cracking one eye open. The ugly tan of the hotel wall was cast in an orange light. He assumed they were as well. "Not exactly a good idea to get hot and heavy for the next day or so."

He could practically _hear_ Holster rolling his eyes. He sure felt the huff of air on his neck.

"Even besides that. You know what I mean."

He couldn't hold it off any longer. Ransom sighed and rolled over so the tip of his nose brushed Holster's.

"Why do you keep going on about it?"

"Because you seem. I don't know. Nervous."

"Maybe I was," Ransom admitted. "A little."

"What're you nervous about?" Holster asked, disbelief lining his voice. "We're both fine."

It was a long time before Ransom responded. He weighed his options, staring at a spot over Holster's shoulder, considering.

"I thought you weren't," he finally settled on.

He could see the way Holster's eye moved together, the way he opened his mouth to ask a question but Ransom beat him to it.

 "Back in the car," he said. "I was awake and you weren't. I couldn't tell if you were alive or not. I thought you weren't."

 "Justin—"

 "It felt like it took a million years before you woke up," he continued. He could see it all in his head, his own mind scratching out the here and now in favor of what might have been, of Holster's cooling body pressed against the steering wheel. "It must've been more like thirty seconds. But I can't forget about it and all today I keep thinking, 'what if?', you know? Like what if we hadn't gotten so lucky? What if you didn't wake up?"

 Holster cupped Ransom's cheek and Ransom placed his own hand on top of his. Holster was looking at him with wide eyes.

 "When I woke up after the crash, my first thought was that I needed to know if you were okay," Holster admitted.  "And then I saw you. And you looked so perfect there, even with all the glass and shit that I thought 'Fuck. I've killed him. Ransom's a literal angel because I wanted to go on a dumbass road trip.'"

 Ransom snorted. It sounded so much like a line from one of Holster's romantic comedies that he almost didn't believe him. But Holster was also the type of guy to have the thought process of one of his romantic comedies, so his words were likely true. It made Ransom want to laugh and tear up at the same time.

 "It wasn't a dumb idea," Ransom sad. "I was just antsy. We can still make it down there if you want."

 "With my car the way it is? Hell no."

 Ransom shrugged. "We could rent a car. Drive the rest of the way on country roads that don't get backed up twenty times a day."

 Holster smiled at him. It matched the sunset. He leaned forward and kissed Ransom before sliding away again. "We can go to Myrtle Beach some other time. The only thing I want to do for the next week is lay here with you."

 "Bro, that's so gay."

 "You were literally just fucking me in the butt. _We're_ so gay. And actually I'm bisexual."

 Ransom snorted in to Holster's collarbone. His eyes stung a little.

 "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, okay."

 In the morning they probably wouldn't have sex again, because honestly that was probably a bad idea to do with a possible head injury, despite all the feelings that had been swirling around Ransom's stomach before. But they would call Holster's parents to tell them about the car and Ransom's parents about the change in plans and Ransom would probably spend a large part of the morning watching Holster breathe while he slept. And that was just as good.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The airbags didn't go off in Holster's car because it's broken piece of garbage.
> 
> Even though they were declared okay by the doctors, please don't immediately have sex that same day if you suspect you have a head injury or potentially have one. That was dumb of them to do. 
> 
> This is the sappiest thing I've ever written in my life. 
> 
> My tumblr is http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/ Feel free to hit me up there and comment here!


End file.
